I stared at myself in the mirror, taking in my knee length black pencil skirt and blush colored blouse. My hair was done up in a tight bun, pulled back from my face, with just a few stray tendrils framing my sad eyes.

After the day I had laughing and playing with Harlyn, my plan was to blow off Peter’s demand that I have dinner with him and my parents.

As soon as we’d arrived at the club, Harlyn had rushed over to talk to Ham, needing all the brothers to hear about her day with me at the store. I hadn’t smiled that much in a long time, seeing her dressed up in clothes way too big for her but that still made her look like a princess.

I was thankful for having Skylar there, Op had agreed to let her have time away from her club girl duties to help me run the store when my other employee couldn’t. It was only two days a week, but when the girls at the club were expected to not have other jobs while they were there, it really meant a lot that Op had made an exception.

We were both trying.

And things had been getting better.

Until I’d overheard the conversation Deacon was having with the boys. I’d stopped, intending on turning around and heading back through the other door when I realized that they were having a pretty deep discussion and not wanting to interrupt.

The words ‘prescription meds’ had caught my attention, and then when Deacon followed up with an explanation and what it was being used for, I knew instantly what he was talking about.

My gut sunk and my hands had begun to shake.

I knew exactly what that drug could do. And the reason I knew, was because it was the same one Peter had me addicted to. The same one he tortured and taunted me with. The same one he destroyed my life and my dignity with, and that haunted me every single day. The same one his company produced, and then bribed and blackmailed their way past the FDA approval.

I knew he was involved in this shit, and I had to do something, even if that meant playing a part that I detested so much. How I was going to pull off a happy smile and play the perfect daughter and wife, I really wasn’t sure. I’d spent so long, trying to draw the traits out of me that my parents had ingrained into my mind and body. Time that over the last six years I’d lived to free myself from. Now here I was, forcing myself back down that same path I tried to run so far from, but this time for different reasons.

I grabbed my handbag, opening it once to check that I had the forms I needed to show Peter, hoping that this was all he needed, and that proving to him that Harlyn wasn’t his would eliminate her from the equation and keep her out of his eyesight. Tucked in under those were more papers, divorce papers, ones that would free me from him forever and maybe finally allow me some kind of sanity.

I thought of Wrench as I pulled closed my front door.

Was he the type to marry?

Was that something he ever thought of?

I shook my head, thinking the idea was stupid.

Seeing him today had caused that rush of emotions to all flood back into me. How he made me feel so good. How he made me happy and freed my mind for those brief moments that we were together. But we both had responsibilities, ones that we couldn’t escape from. His loyalty was to the club, and I was pretty sure that as far as Optimus was concerned, that loyalty meant Wrench touching me could have him losing everything he held close to him.

And now I was thinking more clearly, I just didn’t know if I could be responsible for that. And how unfair it was for me to demand he kept that information from his brothers, his family.

I really did love the club. There may have been times where I’d blamed them, blamed Optimus for the fact that I couldn’t come home. I’d told him before, the danger that surrounds the club was too much for me to handle, too much for me to have Harlyn involved in.

They were just my scapegoat. I’d placed my fears and apprehension on them in order to make it seem like I was doing the right thing. It wasn’t fair, not on the club, Optimus, his brothers or the women who loved those men.

There would come a time when I’d have to admit the truth and take on the guilt and shame of my actions, I just hoped that they would be able to forgive me and understand that I was doing it for them and for my daughter.

I took a deep breath as I climbed from my car and stared at the restaurant in front of me that held so many strange memories. They weren’t necessarily bad because during the times I’d been there, I’d been somewhat happy, or at least content with my life and the way I was living it.

Peter had charm, I had to admit that much. Early on in our relationship he’d wined me, dined me, and surprisingly treated me more like a person than my parents had during my adolescence. I knew at the time that it wasn’t exactly what I wanted, to be with a man who was like them in more ways than one, but I felt like he showed me a different side to his personality, one that was relaxed, more carefree.

The work he did was all about helping families and finding cures to diseases and producing a medication that would help people through their pain, help them to live a normal life. He wanted to make people’s lives longer, help them to experience more. I admired that because it seemed like it came from a genuine place in his heart. But it wasn’t long until I realized his true intentions before I saw exactly who he really was.

I stepped inside the building and immediately there was a waiter offering to take my coat. I smiled graciously. “I’m here to meet Peter Davenport.”

His eyes lit up and he hurried to hang my jacket before sweeping his arm out in front of him. “Please, come this way, ma’am.”

Soft harmonic music played in the background, and patrons chatted quietly among themselves and devoured their food. The smell should have had my mouth drooling, given that I hadn’t eaten all day out of nerves, but all it did was twist my stomach further into knots.

The waiter stopped at the back of the restaurant and stepped to the side, revealing Peter at a large round table, sipping a glass of wine. He looked up and saw me, placing the glass down on the table and standing to his feet.

A gentleman.

Sure.

“A drink for the lady?” the waiter offered, pulling out a small notepad.

I nodded. “Vodka.”

He raised his brow. “Um… mixed with?”

“Straight,” I said sharply, looking out of the corner of my eye and taking pleasure in the way Peter’s nose crinkled at my order.

The waiter rushed off, and I placed my handbag on the table before taking a seat beside him, silently thankful that the table was large enough for there to be quite a space between us.

He slowly sunk back into his chair and once again picked up his glass. “You look lovely,” he complimented. “Couldn’t have ordered something a little less brash?”

“I’m going to need it to put up with my parents…” and you, I added silently.

He swirled the wine in his glass, much like a connoisseur would do when tasting different varieties. “You’re being a little dramatic, Annabelle.”

I didn’t express my distaste for the use of my given name.

Optimus had given me the name Sugar on the first night we’d met, and it had stuck like glue with all his brothers and friends of the club instantly picking up on the nickname. I was almost confident most of them didn’t even know what my real name was.

Annabelle.

So formal, so distinct, and proper with the way it was pronounced.

I hadn’t disliked it back then, but after over five years of calling myself Sugar, it seemed almost like when Peter used it, that he was speaking to someone else.

I guess in a way he was.

He didn’t know the person that I was now, he didn’t know how I’d grown.

He didn’t know me. And for now, that’s how I wanted it to stay.

Just being in his presence disgusted me, made me want to hurl all over the pristine white tablecloth in front of me. I knew I couldn’t hide the way I cringed when he was close, my body’s automatic reaction to him was to cower, that’s how it had been for a long time. And even though I wanted to be strong, for now, it was best that he felt like he was in control, and that I was weak.

I ignored his comment and placed my heavy bag on the table, snatching out the DNA records to show him. “Here… I’m pretty sure I don’t need to explain these to you, do I?”

He took them from my hand, casually letting his eyes glance over them, showing no emotions. “I see,” he finally said after a few minutes. “May I keep these?”

I frowned. “I guess so. Just know I have copies, as do the place where the DNA was tested and also our private doctor. Oh… and a lawyer.” I wasn’t about to let him think he could do something with them untoward without me having proof in several different places.

He chuckled. “Noted.”

The waiter appeared then and placed my drink down in front of me, before taking a step back he said, “Mr. and Mrs. Sulivan rang to let you know that something has come up, and they won’t be attending dinner tonight.”

I caught the small smirk on Peter’s lips as he took another sip of his wine.

Fucking asshole.

When we were alone again, I hissed at him under my breath. “You knew they weren’t coming, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “There something wrong with me having dinner alone with my wife? They were quite excited about the prospect when I mentioned it earlier today, and offered to let us have our time together.”

I pulled my handbag onto my lap. “Well, you can enjoy some time alone.” As I went to stand he tsked his tongue at me disappointingly.

“Bryce Lawson… I bet he has a criminal record, doesn’t he?”

I froze as I heard him use Optimus’ real name. A name I’d just handed to him on the piece of paper he had tucked in his pocket. My blood began boiling with anger. “This isn’t about Harlyn at all, is it? You already knew she wasn’t yours.”

His eyes gleamed with delight like we were playing a hand of cards and he knew his was going to beat mine. “She looks reasonably healthy. I wonder whose genes she got more of… his or yours,” he commented offhandedly as he rearranged the knife and fork on the table. “An addict mother, a criminal father. Easy for a kid like that to get lost in the system.”

Instantly my bristles went up, and my throat became restricted.

He was interested in Harlyn.

There was something he wanted, and he was going to try and use her to get to me. He was going to try and rip her away, hold her over my head and play me like a puppet.

“You come near my daughter… and I’ll kill you,” I whispered between clenched teeth.

His eyes widened for a brief second before he found his composure again, his eyes darkening.

I thought I’d covered all my bases in that regard. There was no doubt at all that Harlyn belonged to Optimus. The short time I’d been with Op, Peter and I hadn’t been sexual, so there was no chance. But now Peter had thrown me for a loop. I could see the cogs moving in his brain, the dark delight he was taking in knowing that he had a kind of power over me that no one else did. He had the ability to change my life, to lock me up and throw away the key. I wasn’t about to let him use Harlyn as a pawn in his deadly games, though. There was no way in hell, and right now, there was only one option I could think of that would keep her safe from both him and from me.

I stood up, my chair tipping back and crashing to the floor. “I think we’re done here.”

His eyes sparkled as he moved to stand to his feet. “Now, Anna. Don’t go and do anything stupid. The last thing I want is for you or that little girl to get hurt. It would be such a shame wouldn’t it, for Harlyn to watch her mother be put away, or worse…” he paused, making sure his eyes met mine, “…be killed.”

“What the hell do you want from me?” I demanded, my hand wrapped tightly around the strap of my handbag.

His eyes flashed, a demonic smirk pulling at his lips. “You hurt me, I hurt you… and everyone you care about.”

I got it now.

I’d made a fool out of him—a runaway wife who disappeared for six years and came back with a child, a child that wasn’t his. He looked stupid, and in his world, people didn’t get away with making him look stupid.

 “You leave my family alone,” I growled, my hand itching to reach over and slap the smug smirk off his dirty face. Instead, I forced myself to turn and head for the door, my body shaking and my legs wobbling unsteadily.

I wouldn’t allow him to see me crumble, though. I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a needle than let him take pleasure in unnerving me.

The fresh night air hit me, forcing me to take a much-needed breath, the cooling air alighting my lungs and allowing me to breathe deeply. My heels clicked on the concrete as I rushed to my car, fumbling with my bag in search of my keys and my cell phone. I was desperate to get inside the vehicle and make a call that would both devastate and relax me at the same time.